by Sr. Noeleen Mooney MMM Ireland 01.05.2023
“Where is she going with that? I said, silently, because we were waiting for Mass to begin.
It was the feast of Saint Joseph the Worker, May 1st, and we had come to sing and ask his blessing on our work. But here was a Mama, with a baby surveying all from the snug security of her back, carrying a jembe (a hoe), right up to the front of the Church.
It seemed to be the start of a procession. Soon there was a complete row of jembes, all pointing heavenwards. A squeaking sound announced the arrival of another Mama, complete with tin bucket. It too, was placed solemnly in line.
And suddenly it seemed so right, to bring symbols of our work. So, I watched fascinated while the procession grew, and variety increased.
The student nurses brought their precious textbooks and pens, carefully wrapped in beautifully embroidered cloths, a craft in which they excel. The medical assistant brought his stethoscope; the cook brought his baking tins; the tailor brought his scissors; the midwife brought her foetal stethoscope, (the small children were fascinated, it looked so much like a horn that I’m sure they longed to blow it!).
So, all kinds of signs appeared of human efforts in building up the Kingdom. They were duly blessed and sent forth in many hands to continue the task of planting, building, reaping, healing. All part of the glorious call to be human.
What did I bring myself? Well you might ask. Only myself, I ‘m afraid. Had I known in time I think it would have been the microscope. But there is always next year!
by Sr. Sheila Campbell MMM Ireland 29.04.2023
I am sitting waiting for something to start. Something I am responsible for, and I am nervous. I can’t concentrate on anything else and I invent small tasks to pass the time. Did I re-arrange the furniture in that office I used yesterday for an interview? Did I check if any mail came in today? Is there enough milk in the fridge for the staff?
You know how it is. Your mind goes racing to pass the time and suppress the panic.
For some reason today it made me think of our patients all over the world. The ones who are facing tests, awaiting test results, waiting for surgery, anticipating the birth of a child. I think for them also the time also goes incredibly slow. I wonder have I always been patient with my patients! One of the Sisters in the house is waiting for hip surgery. She has the date and is organising herself to be ready for it. But you can see the odd flicker of worry, even though she declares she is not afraid. Still, I assured her that the prayers of the rest of us would be behind her and carry her along.
I am thinking that Mary also must have been anxious waiting for the birth of Jesus. “How is this going to turn my life around?”, she must have been saying to herself – and not having an answer to her question. What mother does not go through anxious periods during her pregnancy. I can imagine the questions are endless. How will the birth be? Will the baby be all right? Will the father accept the child? How will I cope? Those of you who have been mothers can probably add a few more ponderings to this list.
And what about Jesus himself in the Garden of Gethsemane? Wasn’t that a terrible agony of waiting? Thinking about this I realise I have little to complain about.
Waiting only demands of us an openness to the future. It mirrors back to us our lack of control and that is what causes the panic, I think. So today, as I wait, I just want to reach out and take God’s hand. I am asking him to keep me company in my time of waiting.
by Sr. Prisca Ovat MMM Nigeria/Kenya 27.04.2023
What might your description of a refugee camp look like? A place with little or no food, electricity, and water? For many years I have heard of the Kakuma refugee camp here in Kenya and my imagination has often described it as the above. And for this reason, when we travelled there, we had a sack full of clothes, shoes, and bags for the people in the camp. How wrong we were.
Recall the previously shared experience of the Turkana people who live all around the camp. They are nomads, herding goats and living simple lives. In the refugee camp, it is the very opposite. They are worlds apart. The camp in question accommodates over 300,000 people who migrated into Kenya. They live a rather luxurious lifestyle compared with the local Turkana people. The camp is supported by international funding agencies and thus their lifestyle is higher than would be expected. We were told, “They decide what they eat, and it is provided”. The first shock which greeted me was at the sight of supermarkets, smartphones, shops, and well-equipped hospitals and clinics.
The presence of these services only goes to say how much money is in circulation there, and I was right in my assumptions. “One billion Kenyan shillings goes into circulation on a daily basis.” Oh, the poor people of Turkana! It was unbelievable to see the quantity of water wasting away through broken pipes in the camp while the “landowners”, the Turkana people, waited for used and discarded bottles of water to momentarily quench their thirst. Great injustice.
Earlier at Mass, those who returned home from Nairobi for the festive season were described as “those returning from Kenya”. For a moment I was confused about whether or not we were in a different country. Without an explanation, I thought that these people may have been marginalized for so long that they no longer see themselves as part of the rest, and my camp experience confirmed it all, as it was later elaborated upon. Leaving the camp, I asked very fundamental questions: “Who is piling up their wealth while the refugees sit in the camp? Who are those building mansions just by having these people here, giving them the impression that they are special when in fact they are sucking up their wealth and stifling their future”? And if so much money flows around, will these people not rather benefit from rehabilitation to their various communities?”
Even though life for the Turkana people is better now than then, they still live in an impoverished condition. And so, for all who read this blog, if your good heart ever calls you to a great act of charity, may it be for the Turkana people. Give them water and liberate a nation from starvation, violence, and death. Only imagine how much they can achieve with water.
by Sr. Sheila Campbell MMM Ireland 25.04.2023
Recently one of the Fr. Richard Rohr’s daily meditations was about boasting, or bragging. Instinctively I say to myself “that is a horrible thing to do!” But Saint Paul talks a lot about boasting – I found a website that registered twenty-two references in his letters to the subject. His most famous quote is “If I must boast, let me boast in my weaknesses”. So, should I brag? If I were to brag, what would I brag about? Saint Paul’s example is to boast about other people’s steadfast love of God and of the work God does through him, despite his weaknesses.
I began thinking about boasting from two angles. First, people who gradually get to know MMM often marvel that we don’t speak much about the marvellous work we do. It is not our way. We are “do-er” rather than “preachers”. How do you talk about MMM work positively without boasting? How do you attract young people to consider it as a possible life commitment without showing what can be possible through dedicated service? That is the challenge daily for the Communications Department!
The second angle is coming at it from the lens of a missionary. People ask “Do you convert people?” My answer is “No”. We help people open their eyes and enlarge their hearts to see how much God loves them, just as they are. So, yes, we must boast – boast about God!
We have seen “God in action” so much in our healing work. We tell stories. We tell stories of people who were very ill and have recovered due to modern medicine and their own resilience. We tell stories of women who where down-trodden or abused and who came through the ordeal with a little help. We tell stories of our broken hearts when we come across situations beyond our control or influence such as wars and natural disasters. Let our stories be our “boasting” and we hope to put the emphasis on God’s work, not us as the instruments of the work.
by Nadia Ramoutar MMM Communications Coordinator Ireland 23.04.2023
“Courage in women in often mistaken for insanity”. Infamous Quaker suffragette Alice Paul is quoted as saying. In so many ways, human history “white washes” stories to cover over what women experienced to fight for freedom. This same thing still happens today, but perhaps in a worse way. In many of the poorest parts of the world it is just completely ignored. The political leaders and the media just refuse to see the ways in which women deserved and need better conditions. Without exception, the plight of women is almost always connected to the demise of babies and children connected to them.
We see that sex trafficking numbers are higher than ever.
Infant mortality and Maternity death rates are high in poor areas of the world.
Women and girls continue to be abducted in high numbers and never found.
Raping women and girls is still common as a spoil of war.
Women still make less than men for the same work.
In parts of the world girls are not allowed go to school.
I could keep going with this list at the risk of losing you as a reader or letting the anger rise within myself.
So how do we bring about change without appearing insane? Not an easy trick to manoeuvre.
Recently, I was speaking with a woman in Africa when she was understandably upset and angry about conditions in her home country. She was hurt. She was thinking of going to protest which really was not safe for her. I listened as much as I could. I struggled to advise her thinking “who am I to tell her NOT to go?” Am I so jaded in my activism that I don’t think protesting really works anymore? Or am I not trusting of male authorities who will beat, and possibly even kill protestors.
There is so much in the world to anger us without having to look closely at all. So how do we agitate for change?
I am by nature an optimistic realist. I hope for the best and plan for the worst. This approach has served me well. But, have I been too passive in accepting what I cannot accept? Is it because I am a mother of two sons that I have to stay safe so I can protect them? I am not sure anymore how it all blends and swirls.
I try to use my creative side as a writer, artist and advocate to make a change. The attempts are something subtle at times and overt at others. The big thing is that I never give up. I keep finding new ways to push the agenda for harmony and equity for people globally.
Will humans ever accept that reciprocated violence does not work? It does not work in politics and it does not work in the home. It is harmful and creates a spiral of demise for everyone involved. It’s a lose-lose proposition every time.
My attention falls on the Serenity Prayer that was written in the 1930s. Ironically, there is controversy about who actually wrote this prayer but it certainly came in an hour of global darkness emerging. It states:
God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
courage to change the things I can,
and wisdom to know the difference.
Perhaps we need to add another line. “And may my courage not be used against me as insanity.”
The path to powerful change is fraught with peril, so it really matters that we have safety in numbers. It is important that we do our part and support one another with compassion and nurturing. We cannot extinguish darkness fully, but we can light a small candle in our corner of the world.
by Wilfreda Omwalo, AMMM Kenya 21.04.2023
I am very much privileged to be associated with MMM. The Congregation has six core values and compassion is my favorite. It is one of the best because it cuts across all the other core values. One cannot be compassionate towards others if we are not compassionate towards ourselves. I pray that I may be kind and compassionate to myself and show it to others.
I am a staff member at St. Mary’s Medical Center, Eldoret, Kenya, where the activities encourage you to go and bring healing to people you serve both at the site and in the community. The healing charism – the healing love of Christ amongst the community and staff. We bring healing by helping the people in the community to improve their health. It is one of the qualities that indeed we need and will help us in every circumstance. I remember during the time of the late Sr. Patricia Hoey there was post-election violence in the years 2007/8. It was the first time I had heard about IDPs (Internally Displaced Persons). This had never been seen before in Eldoret. Everybody was scared and afraid of each other, not knowing whom to trust.
We, the staff of St. Mary’s, had to practice Compassion in that confusion. We visited the affected people at the showground where they had temporary accommodation. The staff had yellow T-shirts with the words ‘LOVE SERVES’. We showed kindness. We listened to their stories carefully, without judging anybody and we offered our time to just be there and to make them feel that, even in that situation, they are loved and are special, important, and that they have a place in our hearts. We took foodstuff to them. Staff gave out their clothes and other items. We grabbed anything that you felt could be of help to them.
These were people from all walks of life – we did not know them. It was offered to all without discrimination. They were neither our relatives nor friends. It taught us to continue to serve in every situation that we are found in and these are the times when one really practices/preaches the Love of Christ.
Being compassionate has made me acknowledge and appreciate others. It surely brought smiles to their faces, they needed to be healed. We shared the healing charism with all that we came in contact with. We serve a God of love who is compassionate. I cannot forget Mary at the Visitation – an act of love, reaching out to people with love. Why did Mary visit or why do we visit friends or relatives? It could be to find out how they are doing, to help them do some work, take food to those who are hungry, and visit if they are sick. Let us all be like a sunflower that follows every moment of the sun. There is a lot I have learned and practiced on compassion. I am forever grateful to be one with MMM.
by Sr. Sheila Campbell MMM Ireland 14.03.2023
This morning I had a desire to write. What about? Well, I didn’t exactly know but I sat down anyway and began. Then it dawned in me that what I wanted to write about is writing itself. I enjoy writing but I am what I call as spasmodic writer. At times I wish I could be more disciplined. I hear of published authors who say that they sit down every morning whether they are in the mood or not. I admire them. I usually sit down and write when an idea becomes so itchy that I must scratch it.
I love writing things down. I think that, when I sit down to write, I calm down, sort out what is going on inside me and I leave the computer feeling much better about myself and about the world.
No wonder writing has a long history. The cave paintings of long ago were the first kind of writing. It was a way of telling stories. Long before the printing press, the monks in the monasteries were transcribing old texts and no doubt adding in their own little commentaries. We can’t help ourselves. It is a way of expressing not just ideas but emotions, dreams, plans and all the new things that we discover each day. When I was a child, I loved comics. For those of you with a British background, do you remember The Beano and The Dandy? I think that it is images and words together, which tickles the imagination even more.
I know I am not alone in MMM with the desire to write. Several Sisters contribute to the MMM Blogs. Some Sisters have had books published. I remember my brother once telling me that he wrote daily for the Jesuits for seven years. By the time he was finished, he was banging his head off the wall looking for inspiration! If I start banging my head, I will let you know ahead of time.
I suppose this blog is an invitation to write. If you take it up, you will enjoy it. I promise you!
by Sr. Margaret Anne Meyer MMM U.S.A. 17.04.2023
The long-awaited day arrived. Sr. Martha Collins and I had settled in Rosemount, our House of Studies in Dublin, and had met the other students in the various years of Medical School. We were delighted to meet our companion Sr. Maura Lynch, who was a second-year novice and a very gifted person. She always saw the funny side of a situation. Michael Byrne, our gardener and jack of all trades, had fixed up three shining bicycles for us to ride to Earlsfort Terrace where the Medical School was then located. What would it be like to ride a bicycle through the streets of Dublin? Would I pass potato fields? I was soon to find out.
Everything happened so fast. The rising call was at 6am. Morning Prayer was in the chapel at 6:30 and then Mass at the Parish Church at 7am. received Holy Communion before Mass to get an early start for breakfast and then get on our bicycles to ride the four and a half miles to College, University College, Dublin. Sister Nurses, Srs. Laurena Gallagher, Edel Weir, Maureen O’Connor, and Ann Curtin. went off to Dublin earlier as they had to be on duty at 8AM. This was the last year that the Sister Nurses lived with us in Rosemount. Training in the International Missionary Training Hospital (I.M.T.H.) in Drogheda had recently commenced.
The older Sisters cycled this distance in twenty minutes. I seemed to take longer but twenty-five minutes was not too bad. Mother Mary wanted us to say prayers while we cycled because our prayer time was shortened so that we could study more. “Come Holy Ghost, Creator, come” was often on our lips and hearts to make them more His own. There was not so much traffic in those days and, when returning to Dublin, I wondered how we would cycle on the same roads now. I loved reading the signs in Irish, “Fir ag obair”, Men working. The men were so handsomely dressed in shirts trousers and ties. It was all so novel to me.
I was told there would be other Sisters in our class and we would recognize them right away. I wondered how this could be and then I met one and realized she wore no makeup, had sensible shoes and plain clothes. Stiletto heels, makeup, dress suits were what the other women in our class wore. A Jesuit priest taught us Botany and had the women students separated from the men. I was surprised to find so many women studying medicine. We were a smaller class, only 90. At that time. foreign students were admitted who were sponsored by Missions in Trinidad and other countries. These men spoke to us quite freely and we enjoyed hearing about their backgrounds.
Pre-Med consisted of four courses, Zoology, Botany, Physics and Chemistry. Some of these courses were held in the College of Science which was quite a walking distance away. We would rush down to the nuns’ room, specially provided for a large number of Sisters, take a snack and then get on our bicycles to ride to the College of Science. Very often we would meet up with Finbarr Lynch, Maura’s brother, a Jesuit, who was also attending the College of Science. We shared a wave from each other’s bicycles.
Our classes in the College of Science were huge. The classrooms were built stadium style to accommodate 400 students from the college of Dentistry, Veterinary, Science and Medicine. Fortunately we could hear well what was being taught and I found it all very interesting.
We would ride back to Earlsfort Terrace, park our bicycles, and take dinner in the college cafeteria in 86 St. Stephen’s Green. The cost was two shillings and six pence which was put on a bill and sent to Rosemount. If there were a long line, we would go into the nearby Newman’s chapel and pray for 30 minutes and then eat. On some days we had time to walk in Stephens Green. I always enjoyed that.
When the lectures were finished, we would cycle home to Rosemount and study before supper. After supper we would have recreation and study together in a room with a fireplace and then retire at 10PM.
This was the normal routine which took sometime to get used to but was always exciting and full of adventure. This leads us up to Christmas where I will continue in the next blog
by Sr. Sheila Campbell MMM Ireland 13.04.2023
Many of you know that MMM spirituality has at its core “the spirit of St. Benedict”. But what can a spirituality set out for monks in a monastery or abbey have to do with our active life? I was thinking about this the other day in relation to the Benedictine vow of stability. For Benedictines it is a commitment to stay in the monastery you join. You opt for a particular place and to live with the same set of people your whole life.
Nothing could be more different for us missionaries! As soon as we finish our initial religious formation period, off we go to study. If we are already professionally trained, we are assigned on our first mission. Some of the older Sisters I know have been missioned in several countries, learning new languages and adapting to different cultures over and over again.
And still we are challenged by this Benedictine view of stability. We don’t take the vow, but it is part of our spirituality. For me, it actually helps when on an overseas assignment. I went to Brazil, struggled with Portuguese as I am not a natural linguist, and slowly embedded myself into the Brazilian culture and church life. Stability for me meant – “I am here now. I won’t run away when life gets difficult. These are now my people.” It helped me settle down in my new home.
I think the ideal of stability has become important in our world of rapid change and societal shifts. With social media reacting so rapidly to every event, often one can get swept away with the tide by social media. Even work is not stable anymore. Few young people enter a job and expect to be there for the rest of their lives.
Reflecting and living with the concept of stability calls me to two other basic virtues, the ability to listen and the patience to wait. We listen to what God is asking of us in our present circumstances. We listen to the needs of the people around us. While we work for change – in our world, better health care for those who need it most – we know that our work is always unfinished. We are often called to wait until people want to make the changes necessary to improve their lives. We are not “big mamas” coming in to solve problems!
Do I struggle with stability? No, in fact I value it. It helps keep me grounded in my present life and work – and if I am assigned elsewhere, I will seek stability there too. That is, until the end – what could be more stable than eternity!
by Sr. Rita Kelly MMM Ireland 11.04.2023
This week I had my first glimpse of primroses. As I watch Mother Nature exploding into new life, first the snowdrops, the daffodils, the buds on the trees gradually unfolding one can only give thanks to all of nature.
Earth is not only springing into life in this part of the world (the Northern Hemisphere) but Mother Nature is appearing to be active in Human Beings also. A friend was expecting her first baby on 1st May, a summer baby, as we all thought! Mother Nature has other thoughts. On 16th March the baby arrived, to everyone’s surprise.
On hearing of the premature birth, I remembered the number of babies I delivered in Ireland, Kenya and Goma, Congo. But one birth stands out in my mind, the premature birth to a Dutch couple in Turkana, Kenya.
Mark and Emma were volunteers from Holland, working for a Rehabilitation Programme set up in Turkana because of a severe famine which occurred in 1981-1984. They were assigned to a place called Kakuma, north-west of Turkana where I was working as a nurse/midwife. We, Medical Missionaries of Mary had a hospital and a Primary Health Care Programme. However, at that time there was no Doctor. Lay volunteers and Sisters were trying to cope with hundreds of people who were setting up feeding camps around the hospital. Turkana people are a nomadic people, and houses are temporarily built.
Mark and Emma were welcomed. One day Emma informed me that she was pregnant. I was delighted for her. But since it was her first baby, I had concerns about the delivery and any problems that may occur. We had only the basic facilitates, no doctor and no incubators. After some discussion we agreed that Emma would book into a Nairobi hospital and would leave with the Flying Doctors (AMREF) who visited the hospital, monthly, for elective surgery. A month before the due date of birth a place was booked on the plane for Emma. One night there was a tap on my bedroom window. It was Mark to say Emma had gone into labour. I went over to their wooden house and confirmed that Emma was in labour. Six weeks before expected date of baby!! Saying my prayers that all would be well, we were glad when Daan was born twelve hours later, crying. He was small but, thank God, all appeared to be well with both mother and baby. Daan was wrapped in tinfoil and carefully nursed until, a couple weeks later, Daan and his parents went for a well-earned rest and recovery to Nairobi.
They returned to Kakuma and Daan spent his first year of life in the desert. I met Daan many years later in Ireland. He came with his parents after his 21st birthday. It was amazing to look at this tall young man and remembering the story of his birth.
“If we truly love Nature, we will find beauty everywhere” Vincent Van Gogh.
